


The Naughty List

by arcadian_dream



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-07
Updated: 2010-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-05 22:29:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcadian_dream/pseuds/arcadian_dream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While trying on his costume for his upcoming stint as a volunteer Santa Claus, Charlie asks Neville what it is that he would like for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Naughty List

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kaellite for the 2009 round of hp_yule_balls.

"How on earth did you get roped into this?"

"I didn't," Charlie replied with a wide, toothy grin (the one that made Neville's breath catch in his throat, and his heart thud mercilessly in his chest) - "I volunteered."

Charlie was in the midst of trying on the outfit he would be wearing for the occasion, though he was still, at that moment, wearing no clothing whatsoever. As he adjusted his false white beard, he noticed the furrow of Neville's brow in the mirror's reflection.

"You volunteered?" Neville asked with an inflection of surprise.

"Of course I did" – (there it was again, that smile) – "I mean, can you think of anyone better to be at this time of the year? Not only do you get to play dress-up," Charlie winked, "But you get to make kids happy. Just – happy. It's a bit brilliant, really."

"It just surprises me a bit, that's all," Neville shrugged.

"I can see that," Charlie said. He lowered his voice to a raspy whisper and, as he spoke, he approached Neville, who was, too, wholly exposed to the wavering light of a new day, and seated on the edge of the bed on this cool morning.

"Honestly, Nev," Charlie continued. Placing a hand on each of Neville's knees, he parted his legs and slid between them. Neville gazed up at him: at the taut muscles of his stomach and the dip of his belly-button; at the trail of flaming red hair that ran up and over the waistband of his underpants and the freckles that sporadically marked his pale skin; at the broad expanse of his bare chest and the smooth lines of his toned arms.

"Honestly Neville," Charlie repeated, as a mischievous smirk flitted across his lips, "What does it say about me that you're surprised I'd do something like this? You must think I'm some sort of – "

"No!" Neville said, becoming flustered. "It's not that at all, Charlie. I only meant that, that – "

The blush rose fiercely in Neville's cheeks: with wide, brown eyes and full face he looked up at the young man standing over him, as though it would help him find the answer.

"It's only, you don't seem like the type, is all. That's all I meant. Nothing ... untoward," Neville eventually managed to choke out.

"It's alright, mate," Charlie said with a chuckle, "I'm only having a laugh. I know you'd never mean - "

Charlie paused mid-sentence. Enamoured by the earnestness of Neville's expression, Charlie suddenly felt overwhelmed by desire. Ruffling Neville's hair, he ran the palm of his hand, broad and flat, over the base of Neville's skull and neck, and pulled him into a long, slow kiss. Neville responded with a contented moan as the inviting warmth of Charlie's mouth engulfed his own. As they kissed, Charlie began to mumble indecipherably.

"Hrrrmfff," Neville responded in kind as they broke the kiss; their lips tingling with the delicate moisture of hot breaths and the scratching of Charlie's false beard.

"I said," Charlie began with a smile, "Why don't you tell old Saint Nick what it is that you'd like for Christmas?"

_"Charlie!_" Neville breathed, somewhat scandalised, "I can't do _that!_"

"Why not?"

"Because – because," Neville stammered, "Because you're dressed as Father Christmas it's – well, I don't know what it is but it isn't – it can't be – "

Charlie raised his eyebrows; he bit his bottom lip. And he seated himself on the bed beside Neville.

He spread his legs and, patting his knee, he said in a voice that almost _simmered_: "Come. Sit on my knee. Or in my lap, if you like."

Neville swallowed; he blushed. "I can't, Charlie," Neville got to his feet, "It's just – it's too weird. I just _can't_."

"Of course you can," Charlie licked his lips. He reached for one of Neville's hands. Taking it in his own, he lifted Neville's fingers to his lips: he slipped two fingers into his mouth and he sucked.

Neville's eyes fell closed: he allowed the pleasing sensation to consume him and, in a moment, it was gone. His fingers, sticky with saliva, were exposed once more.

"You can, Neville," Charlie encouraged. "After all," he tugged Neville to him forcefully, and their knees brushed against one another: "You don't want to end up on my naughty list, do you?"

Neville was silent. He swayed against, into, Charlie, who was still seated; still gripping Neville's hand; and still looking at him in a way that Neville knew all-too-well and of which he simply couldn't get enough.

"Do you?" Charlie intoned again, pressing his lips to Neville's chest and, as he did so, he raised his free hand and brought it down on Neville's bare backside. The soft _thwack_ of skin-against-skin reverberated around the two men.

_"Do you?"_ Charlie croaked, his voice hoarse, heavy and thick with desire, as he administered a second smack.

Neville grunted; he shook his head, "No. No, I don't."

"Don't what?"

_Thwack_

"Want to end up on the – the – "

Neville failed to find the words at that moment. Instead, he clasped the back of Charlie's neck, he clung to him and, as he brought his body closer, his stiffening cock brushed against Charlie's naked chest.

"Don't want to end up on the what, Neville?"

_Thwack_

"Nnnngh," Neville moaned, as he jerked involuntarily against Charlie, "The naughty list, I don't want to end up on the naughty list."

"Good boy," Charlie said. He ran his hands firmly over Neville's thighs and, grasping the boy's legs, he lifted and threw him down onto the bed.

"Good boy," Charlie repeated as he straddled Neville, who squirmed happily beneath Charlie's substantial weight. Smiling lasciviously, Charlie leaned forward, the artificial hair of his false beard skimming over the surface of Neville's skin. He ran his tongue, long and slow, over Neville's neck, and along the line of his collarbone; lapping at tiny droplets of sweat the way a cat might lick up milk.

"Don't move," Charlie commanded. He grasped absently for something behind him before, finally, his fingers closed around the soft fabric of Santa Claus' red trousers. Neville – obedient to Charlie's whim that he should remain still – could only watch as Charlie loosed the black leather belt from its loops. He flung the pants to one side and, grinning, he quickly raised Neville's arms above his head on the bed.

"There," Charlie said as he bound Neville's hands together, "Much better. Don't you agree, Neville?"

Neville nodded awkwardly, his movement limited by Charlie's handiwork with the belt. "Yes, much," he said, "Much better, Charlie."

"Good. Now," Charlie inched down the length of Neville's naked body, until he was able to position his mouth over his groin. Teasingly, he flicked his tongue over the swollen head of Neville's cock, which elicited a desperate whimper from his lips.

"Charlie, _please_."

"Please what?"

"Please, please just – just _touch_ me," Neville moaned. He shifted his hips from side to side on the bed, as though the energy – the tension – coursing through him at that moment could not be contained.

Charlie sat between Neville's splayed legs, resting on his haunches. Watching Neville writhe about, Charlie became increasingly excited. Wrapping his fingers loosely around the length of his own shaft, he looped his fingers around the straining head. Grunting, he altered his position once more: sliding up between Neville's legs, he positioned his cock parallel with Neville's and, lubricating his palm with a generous mouthful of saliva, he held them both, together, and moved against the bound boy.

"Charlie," Neville hissed: _"Please."_

"Please what?"

"Just – "

"Just, _what?_"

"Just – _nnngh_," Neville exhaled suddenly as the delectable friction of Charlie's cock rubbing against his own disappeared. It was soon replaced, however, as Charlie, parted Neville's buttocks, exposing him. Pressing a slicked finger to the puckered hole, he slid into Neville. Neville, in turn, gasped as Charlie moved inside him, and as he moved against Charlie.

Charlie, watching the contortions of Neville's face, determined he was close. As Neville thrust awkwardly - and desperately - into the vacant air surrounding him, Charlie sought out Neville's perineum. A moment later, Neville let out a shuddering exclamation as he came, semen spilling from the head of his cock onto his quivering stomach.

Breathing heavily, Charlie extricated his hand from Neville's backside, and, re-positioning himself, pressed his own aching prick to Neville's arsehole before sliding in. The two rocked back and forth against each other. Neville, spent though he was, pushed back hard on Charlie's cock with each forward thrust, and it was not long before the deep, guttural moan of Charlie's own orgasm was heard.

A heaving mess of saliva, sweat, and come, Charlie withdrew his cock before collapsing against Neville. The two lay there, naked and exhausted: Neville with his hands still bound, and Charlie with the false Santa Claus beard still dangling from his chin.

"So," Charlie said as he turned to face Neville, "You never did tell me what it was that you wanted for Christmas."

Neville swallowed, and cleared his throat. "I don't think it matters," he said, "I get the feeling we might both be on the naughty list this year."

Charlie laughed. He reached out and held Neville close. "I think you might be right," he said. And as Neville rested his head against Charlie's chest, the two tumbled, happily, from consciousness into a contented sleep.


End file.
